Talking in Code
by MaddieCausesMisery
Summary: My name is Emmalayn Reynolds. There as been an outbreak of 'The Green Flu.' This particular 'flu' causes people to fall ill with many alarming symptoms. The scariest being viciously cannibalistic. Some call them zombies, others infected. I call them dead.


Sweat dripped off my brow as I drove the last metal pole deep into the earth. I sat down to give my tired limbs a rest and contemplating whether or not to finish, but the metal fencing behind me still needed to be attached to the polls. I rolled up my sleeves and took a swig of a water bottle I had placed beside my tool box as I relaxed further, enjoying the silence for once. An ungodly screech broke through the calm twilight, my muscles tensed. _Fucking Hunters. _I though bitterly while rubbing the scars on my face absentmindly.

_The son of a bitch sounded close, so I better hurry_. I stood and jerked the fencing up to a stand. Using all of my strength, I pulled the chain-link metal from pole to pole, twisting the ties at the top to keep it in place, creating the last of my fencing. I stretched out the kinks in my back as I took a deep breath, analyzing my work.

_Only needs about ten more feet on the top and the high voltage generator attached._ I thought sleepily as the fat moon began to rise into the sky. I stretched again and gathered my tools and bottle before walking into my safe house. I dropped the tool box and pushed it underneath the old book shelf with my foot. The shelves of it were fully stocked with food, water, toiletries, and medical supplies I have collected over the first year of the infection.

Well, you are probably pretty confused about the whole ordeal; I'll start from the top. My name is Emmalayn Reynolds and I am twenty years of age. I have narrow cheek bones and a well-rounded chin with a button nose. My hair falls to my mid-back, in loose, black curls. My eyes are a light grey and on alert 24/7. I stand a full five foot and three inches and weigh about one hundred and fifteen pounds. I have four angry scars starting from under my left eye and ending right under my chin.

Don't let my size fool you; I am quick in both reflexes and wits. That is beside the point, what I am going to tell you will be an unbelievable shock. But, sadly, it is true.

The impossible happened almost a year ago. The zombie apocalypse, but the government calls it the 'Green Flu'. This particular 'flu' cause it's victims to fall 'ill' with extreme fevers, massive muscle growth, rabies symptoms, limb loss, swelling of the abdomen, homicidal depression, appendage extensions, abnormally sharpened teeth and finger nails, and the best for last, thirst for human blood and hunger for the flesh. Some call them zombies, some call them infected. I really don't care as long as they're dead.

I wipe my hands off onto my pants and take one last look at my fence. _Good enough to keep them out another night at least. _

I gathered my tools and placed them back in the small shed beside the metal door of the safe house. I opened the door and walked in, kicking off my shoes while pulling off my jacket. I walked into my bedroom and looked into the mirror.

The shape I have been in lately shocks me still yet. Dark circles formed underneath my eyes from many sleepless nights. My face thinned to an alarming rate. My hair now falls in dull, dead curls when down. The only thing that stood out from my face was the angry, red scars. I closed my eyes as the memory came flooding back.

_It was absolutely pouring the rain and I was soaked. The cold February breeze made me shiver, my clothes clang to me helplessly. I slung a hand to shield my eyes from the rain, looking for some sort of shelter. A screech broke through the pitter-patter of rain on the asphalt, which caused me to run even faster. The hunting knife strapped to my thigh bounced wildly as my feet pounded against the concrete. After a few blocks of running, I stopped and fell to my knees panting and clutching my heaving chest. I looked up from my spot and made a quick scan of my surroundings. _

_I was kneeling in streets of an empty cul-de-sac. I took a look around from my soaked, huddled form on the side-walk and spotted a small shed in the backyard of a huge two-story house. I gripped the knife's handle as I slowly rose to my feet. I walked slowly towards the shed, my legs shaking from the harsh treatment delivered earlier. Practically every window was busted out of the house, the doors were smashed in. _

_I crept past the house as broken glass crunched underneath my boots, the smell of rotted flesh and gun powder still stung my senses. I stumbled to the door of the small shed and threw open the door. As I was walking in, my boot caught in the doorway, sending me face first into a pile of ripped fabric and half-eaten, half-rotted body parts, and loads of cans and other random shiny things. A hand shot out from the mess and swiped at my head. _

_I heard a growl as I rolled away, my head snapped up to meet the snarling, very pissed off Hunter in front of me. I snatched my knife from its strap and held it out from me, the blade shining maliciously from streetlights outside. The Hunter gave out a kill screech and swatted, I could practically imagine the calf muscles constricting like springs for the pounce. _

_I swung my knife at the leaper, causing it to spring forward in a frenzy of claws and snarls. I forced my knee up, ramming it into the chest of the air-born Hunter and swung my knife again. The metal ripped into the hooded-figure's shoulder. Its claws sank into my thigh as it let out a pained screech, its bloodied teeth snapping. I gritted my teeth and punched it with all my might. _

_It flew off me, landing in a crouched position a few feet away. We had an intense stare down for a few moments. It finally got sick of the wait and sprung towards me, slamming against the wall of the shed. The clawed hand of the Hunter was wrapped around my throat, the other came down mercilessly against my face. The four clawed-fingers scraped down my face as the thumb slide across the front of my throat. _

_I spat at the hooded-man, glaring daggers at it. He growled and torn into my stomach with his hands. I gripped the knife hard and struck forward, piercing the Hunter right between his ribs. It hissed and backed up, holding it. I could taste the blood as it dripped down my face and onto my lips. My shirt was soaked from the wound on my stomach. I screamed and ran at the Hunter, tackling it to the ground. I sat straddled on its stomach as I stabbed its chest again and again and again. Pretty soon I was a sobbing mess holding the handle of a bloodied knife, hilted deep inside a special infected's chest. I passed out and fell sideways, lying in a pile of rags soaked in vile blood. _

I snapped back to reality and met my eyes in the mirror. My face was flushed and small tears built up in my eyes as I traced the scars. My eyes narrowed in the mirror as a sudden though pierced my brain, _Kill every Hunter. __**Kill every Hunter. **_

I smirked at my reflection, a Hunter hunter. Funny, but the name was fitting. I washed my face and brushed my teeth with some rain water I had collected, flicked off my flashlight, and crawled into my air-mattress_. I will begin my work tomorrow_, I thought as I began to drift off into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
